


Things That Never Fade

by tinseltown



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinseltown/pseuds/tinseltown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy remembers him at the oddest moments. He never truly leaves her. Time passes, life moves on, and still she remembers. She is proud of who she has become, of the life she has lived...but she can't help but sometimes wish the clock would tick backwards. Their time was short but the impact lives on. Because she can never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Never Fade

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: One-shot. I own nothing from the Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel Comics, and no profit was made from this work.

Peggy remembers him at the oddest moments. Actually, in full honesty, he is never completely gone from her mind. She banishes him sometimes—she must, for she has things to do, _important_ things (or she desperately hopes so)—but he never strays too far. The man with a heart and soul too big for his fragile, small-boned body; the man with the naiveté and innocence yet plucky determination that she found so endearing yet exasperating all at the same time. She’d known many men before—not in a personal sense, of course, because Peggy considered herself a respectable woman and had many boundaries—but she’d never quite known a man like Steve Rogers. Too boyish to be a real man and yet too much of a real man to be a child. He was inexplicable.

He was also not the type of man women were attracted to. Peggy could see why; she wasn’t a fool, she knew appearances mattered to most women and if she was going to be completely honest with herself—and she usually was—appearances mattered to her too. She would be lying if she said they didn’t. Falling in love, finding a man—these weren’t things high on Peggy’s list of priorities. She wanted to be an agent, wanted to work her way up the ladder and become someone respected and powerful, and knew that getting deeply involved with someone would distract her from her mission. But _if_ she were to get involved with someone, she knew that she would want it to be someone handsome and suave. Intelligent, well-mannered, and open-minded as well, of course. There were few things Peggy loathed more than men who behaved like belligerent children when a woman outperformed them, or who tried to pass off crude humor as a personality.

And then she met Steve. While there was no doubt that Steve was a good man—earnest, yearning, full of honorable intentions and a good heart—he did not possess the qualities Peggy had always assumed she found preferable in the opposite sex. He wasn’t suave; he could barely walk without tripping over something, much less _dance_ (and Peggy loved dancing, as much as her serious exterior hid this fact). He wasn’t charming or particularly witty. In fact, at times, Peggy found him to be a bit dense (especially when it came to the wily ways of women). And while he had a face that was adorable in a slightly premature sort of way, he was stunted and small and plain. Nothing too remarkable to look at. By all intents and purposes, he was the kind of man that a woman would not have normally noticed. Perhaps not even Peggy.

But she did notice him—she noticed him from the first day she met him because he looked her right in the eye, called her “ma’am” with tones of real respect (not the smarmy wink-wink, nudge-nudge charm many fellows tried on her), and shook her hand the way he would with any man. His voice was clear though tones of self-doubt lingered in it. He believed in himself but he had been let down by the world, by his family, by his own _body_ , too many times to believe that he would ever be given a fair chance. But he tried anyway and he remained polite and he treated Peggy like a human even when it was clear as day that he found her attractive.

So she noticed him and that was all that mattered. She didn’t want to like him but almost immediately, his charm grew on her. His looks simply didn’t matter because he, himself, was such an extraordinary character. His goodness startled her. Over the years she’d become a bit cynical herself—being a woman in a position where her authority was constantly questioned—and his refreshing, blunt morality and values were shocking…in a good way. His belief that he needed to lay his life down on the line just like every other man. Even his cluelessness around women was endearing.

 And so Peggy fell for him. She fell for him long before he took Erskine’s formula. She couldn’t help it—he was just so…Steve. The thought of him brought a smile to her face (even if it was a close-lipped small smile; Peggy Carter didn’t betray her emotions very easily) and what else is love, if not the thought of someone bringing a smile to one’s face? What else is love, if not the thought _I would like to see the world with this person by my side_ , which crossed Peggy’s mind so often? This was why Steve signing up for Erskine’s super-soldier serum worried her at first; she didn’t want Steve to be harmed. Even worse than being harmed…she didn’t want him permanently changed. But she didn’t voice her worries because she didn’t think voicing any sentiment would have been appropriate. She would have been derided for having “womanly fears.” Peggy thought her being a woman made her stronger than men, in many ways, but the world didn’t think the same way she did.

Truth be told, when she first saw Steve in his all-new muscular glory, she had been slightly afraid for a moment. She hadn’t been in awe of his new physique or his features which finally seemed to fit his face and made him look like a model. She had been afraid, just for one moment, that because Steve _looked_ different…he had _become_ different. And she loved him just as he was. So she had hesitantly reached out with a delicate hand, as gentle as a butterfly, and had touched him just for a fleeting moment before yanking her hand away. She didn’t know why she did it—she just wanted to know if the Adonis in front of her was real, if he was the _same_.

And then she had seen the hesitant smile in his blue eyes as he gazed _down_ at her rather than gazing up at her and she instantly knew: he was still the same Steve Rogers. He was simply more durable now.

War was war. Peggy didn’t want to think about it. She got more time with Steve than she had expected—than she had deserved—but it still wasn’t enough. Time seemed to move as slow as molasses and yet it raced by. Flying with him in an aeroplane piloted by Howard Stark. Having a fight with him over his absolute idiocy when it came to relationships (though Peggy would never openly admit that it had been a fight). Kissing him in a car that raced after the Red Skull right before Steve leaped off, before he leaped out of her life for forever. Hearing his voice one last time before he completely vanished.

Peggy didn’t wallow in grief. For one thing, she didn’t feel like she had the right to. She hadn’t known Steve very long and their relationship had been a short one. To carry on and on for weeks, months, years…it would have felt false. As if she was using their relationship for dramatics. She also knew showing any type of emotion would get her labeled a “hysterical woman.” For another thing, wallowing and wasting away was simply not how Peggy Carter did things. She threw herself back into her work, more subdued than usual, and made sure to never break down in front of anyone. Breaking down was for her silent moment alone in her bedroom for just a few moments here and there, when the grief became too much.

Eventually she married someone else. He had been at war with them, had been one of the men that Steve had saved. Even years later, it was evident that Steve’s hand was subtly guiding her life in delicate ways. He courted her and he was pleasant and kind and dependable—not the kind of man she would have wanted to travel the world with…but the kind she could build a life with. And her marriage to him is a successful one by most standards; they have children (two so far, though her husband wants more later on; Peggy herself isn’t so sure if she wants any more), money, respectable positions, and they get along well. Between them, all the waters are calm, unruffled.

And still Peggy remembers Steve. The years pass and his voice never fades away. It is almost puzzling; she only knew him for a short amount of time. Why won’t he disappear from her life? Why does he affect her so? Why is his voice still so clear? It’s almost as if her heart believes that she will see him again someday. That, of course, is merely wishful thinking—and yet Peggy can’t help but hope it is true, in some way or another.

The color of his eyes. His floppy golden-wheat hair, neatly combed back with just one strand falling into his eyes. His irritating and yet adorable look of confusion when he thought Howard Stark and Peggy were involved (Peggy shudders with disgust at the thought, even now; she likes Howard well enough but there is no way she could ever be _involved_ with a man as self-absorbed and devil-may-care as Howard). His determination to save his best friend, Bucky Barnes (the poor man ended up dying in action anyway, a fact that still haunts Peggy). The feel of his lips—quick, soft—on hers right before he was snatched away by his heroic duties.

She sees him in the crowd sometimes, the back of some man’s blond head. She sees him in her children sometimes, for brief moments, as she tries to raise them with arrow-straight morals as he had. It’s like she falls in love with him over and over again as the years pass. As her hair and her husband’s hair turn gray and as her children grow old and begin to have children of their own. As people she once knew begin to pass away and as the world changes—as new wars are started and strange new technology is invented—and as time goes on, she still remembers Steve.

She loves her husband now and she loves her children and grandchildren. She has lived a fulfilling, grand old life. She has done important things. She has founded an organization that she subtly named after Steve’s weapon of choice, a tiny nod to the man who inspired her to make a real change. But sometimes, during a quiet afternoon she hears his voice and remembers his eyes and she takes out her faded old photo of him—when he was still small—and runs her thumb over it, smiling and shaking her head, trying to get the cobwebs and ghosts out of her mind.

Sometimes you find the right partner on time. You just never get the opportunity to dance with them. Such is the terrible cruelty of the beautiful world we live in.


End file.
